The Paths We Choose
by ScarletDeath7
Summary: Failing or succeeding? Planning or sabotaging? What is it that truly determines our fate. Whether we strive for justice or thirst for power, we are limited only by the paths we choose. -My entry for the DA Creative Writing Challenge-


Alright, now that the winners have been announced for the Dragon Age Creative Writing Contest I feel better about throwing my piece out there. Enjoy and criticism is welcome (though I may kick myself for it later).

Oh yeah, and I do NOT own dragon age or any associated characters, locations, or other various lore.

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><p>The Paths We Choose<p>

"Is there nothing you can do right?" The words pierced through the silence of the cold room. I couldn't be sure if the echo was from the vast emptiness, or if it was simply in my head. Either way, it was a raw reminder of my apparent inadequacies as a Templar, largely due to my lack of discipline, at least how the Chantry defines it. Needless to say, this wasn't the first time I'd heard those words from the Knight-Commander's mouth, nor would it likely be my last.

I did what I could to remain impassive, awaiting the routine of ridicule that was all but predicable. "Do you not take your commitment seriously?" the Knight-Commander would thunder at me. To which I would respond, "I am but a child of the Maker, Ser, and will do what is in my power to serve the Chantry." Then, as was usual, the relaying of details relating to the incident at hand. This time was no different.

"Explain to me again how, exactly, this apprentice escaped," he demanded, a bit more calmly at this point.

"He jumped, Ser," I repeated the words he had already heard, knowing it would not ease the tension of the conversation. "It appears as though he stood on a book shelf, pulled himself up to the window, and flung himself through."

"From five stories up?" he asked skeptically, and with good reason. I spoke the truth though. The young apprentice had escaped through the high window five stories up. As luck would have it, he landed in the garden amid a pile of compost while the patrolling guards were preoccupied with a skirmish at the other end of the grounds. By the time I raced down five stories of stairs to the court yard he was long since gone.

"A fool of a man if I ever saw one, Ser," I assured him, though it wasn't enough to appease his uncertainty.

"Let me get this straight. You were patrolling past the dormitories when a commotion caught your attention and when you went to investigate you caught sight of the apprentice climbing through the window. After observing this, you hasten downstairs to detain him?" He asked, an eyebrow still raised. True, he seemed cynical, but whose word could he trust beyond my own? With my colleagues busy investigating the rumors about a secret meeting I was conveniently the only Templar to witness the event. Still, I had no need to lie and the information I presented was factual.

"As is my job, Ser," I confirmed. To his frustration, the Knight-Commander was no closer to finding the answers he wanted. It was so like the Chantry to point fingers, to find someone to blame, to persecute. Nothing was ever a coincidence, luck didn't exist. Though, they were smart not to take things at face value. It was a large part of what made them so infuriating.

Unnerving him to do so, the Knight-Commander dismissed me with a wave of his hand. The discussion went just as I had anticipated, just as it always went. I'd yet to find myself in the dungeons despite the increasing number of mage disappearances on my watch. It was truly a dangerous game finding the balance between what was right and what was expected of me. The mages want freedom, the Chantry wants tyranny, and I find myself torn by the two. We all play our parts, mine is just a little more complex.

It was a relief to reach my quarters. Compact though they may be, it was still home. Waiting for me upon my writing desk was a small envelope, my name written delicately across the front. It was sealed with a large drop of candle wax, less than official looking. I guessed what it was before tearing into it. Sure enough, it was another letter from Theodryk requesting my assistance yet again. After the first few letters, I had feigned ignorance, but when he persisted I plainly refused. Apparently the bothersome man didn't like that answer, or perhaps he was more desperate than I thought.

Theodryk was an enchanter, and even though he was fairly young, he possessed a high aptitude for entropy magic and was a surprisingly powerful mage. From what I could tell, he had excelled in the circle. Despite being a mage, he seemed to command a high level of respect from those around him, unlike the misunderstood apprentice who had found his way out the window. Theodryk wasn't one of the usual types who requested my services, and that heightened my suspicions. He was calm and controlled, never acted desperate or panicked, and he fit in with the rest of the circle. Although it was possible I misjudged him.

It seemed another chance was in order. The letter suggested that he'd be in the cellars after day's end. It was a risky bit of information to pass along to a Templar and he knew I knew that. The man possessed some degree of trust towards me; trust was something I felt obligated to reward. I tucked the letter beneath my armor, leaving the envelope on the table. Despite my better judgment, I set out to meet with the anxious enchanter.

Unlike the mages skulking through the shadows, thinking they are undetectable, I had no need to hide. It wasn't unusual for a Templar to wander freely throughout the hold, especially anywhere near the kitchens. I clanked overtly in my full armor, a warning to any foolhardy mage sneaking about that they were not alone, as I made my way through the maze of halls and stairs. No one made motion to speak to me, nor I to anyone; it made things simpler. Not for fear of material witness, but rather inquisition. Questions lead to more questions, and though I frequently omitted information, I was less likely to resort to blatant dishonesty.

The cellar door was slightly ajar, light beyond flickering, beckoning shadows to dance around the room. I entered the small space only to see the enchanter seated on a small wooden chair, calm as usual. His young features were darkened by shadows elicited from the flame. His face was unreadable and it did little to comfort the feeling of doubt that was rising in my stomach. For the first time, I had to remind myself of my purpose.

"Please, sit," he gestured to a chair not far across from him. On account of the limited space, it was much too close for my liking.

"I would prefer to stand," I stated evenly. My willingness to hear him out didn't change the fact I was a Templar and I wanted that to be clear. This transaction did not make us friends and I didn't want this mage to think otherwise. To reinforce that fact I sternly crossed my hands over my chest.

"Suit yourself. Then on to business," he continued in the same calm, level tone. "I need you to help me falsify my death."

It was a strange request and momentarily caught me off guard. Most of the mages I worked with wanted a simple way out. Maybe they'd be caught again, or maybe they'd find safe ground, either way they were usually just happy for the opportunity to breathe freely again. It was obvious Theodryk was after more than a taste of freedom. The idea of falsifying one's own death implied that one wished to erase themselves from history. Or one wishes to become someone else. If he wanted to do that then he was definitely after something more dangerous.

"To what end, Theodryk?" I inquired, curiously. Deep down I knew I it couldn't be anything good, but part of me wanted far more to believe that wasn't true. If he had ultimately good intentions then he couldn't really be all that bad, at least that's what I told myself.

"What does it matter?" he nearly whispered, his voice almost warm. "One-hundred sovereign says you forget about the end and focus on the means." He placed a worn coin purse on the empty chair, opened just enough to reveal the shiny gold colored coins inside.

One-hundred sovereign was a tremendous offer. I would believed him bluffing had I not seen it with my own eyes. The possibilities swam through my head of all I could procure with that amount of coin. Still it seemed off. That was far more coin that any circle mage should posses.

"How did you come across that many sovereigns?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

"You ask too many questions, Templar," he spoke the word with utter disdain. "You can either take the coin and help me or walk away."

Had I walked out that door things may have ended differently. I had refused his generous offer, and though he was furious, he seemed willing to leave it at that. Despite my intentions, I had turned back to make one last suggestion in the hopes of not leaving the mage entirely empty handed.

"You're going to need a body, you know." I informed him. With those words the tide changed. Theodryk stood, his features somehow even darker than before. A menacing laugh escaped his lips as blood dripped from a wound I hadn't noticed moments ago. The purse of gold before me melted away as the walls seemed to enclose me in darkness. I tried the door, but to no avail. It was blood magic at its worst.

I looked to his eyes. I'm not completely sure what I saw there, but I know it wasn't a man. Too late, I realized his plan was to obtain a body, my body. The choice was out of my hands, had been out of my hands all along. The time to act was now if I were to act at all.

The small space was to my advantage. A condition he had clearly overlooked in his preparations. It's not how I would have wished to end it, but it was his life or mine. I charged him.

"Filthy maleficar!" I shouted as my blade made its way through his chest before he could cast any destructive spells.

"Templar dog!" he spat back, bloodily, in my face as he fell into a heap at my feet.

I was surprised to see the commotion had demanded so much attention. As the blood magic resided, a number of Templar, including the Knight-Commander nearly fell through the door. I wiped the blood from my face and sheathed my sword as the others stared in shock.

"It was a trap," I explained calmly, honestly as I handed a letter to my superior. "I found this," I told him as he opened the letter which read:

_I need to see you immediately. This isn't something I can do on my own. I can't leave this to anyone else. I'll be in the cellar after day's end if you decide to join me._

_Sincerely,_

_Theodryk_

"I thought it sounded like a secret meeting. After I found him alone he attacked me," I continued, all of which was true. "I had no choice, Ser."

The Knight-Commander merely shook his head in silence as we filed out of the cellar.

Perhaps we are opportunists in this game, or perhaps we are self saboteurs. Templar or Mage, we all set up our plans only to send them crashing down. Sometimes we try to believe what we want to believe, and sometimes we turn against our only hopes. It seems no matter what we do, in the end our true nature shines through.


End file.
